


business as usual

by TechnicalTragedy



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming In Pants, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 17:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/TechnicalTragedy
Summary: It was a routine sweep.Then Ryder opened a drawer marked “DO NOT OPEN” and it all went to shit.





	business as usual

**Author's Note:**

> probably other tags but i either didn’t feel they technically applied or didn’t know what to call them. whoops.
> 
> haven’t written for fallout in a long time, and i’ve never written danse, but hopefully you enjoy!

It was a routine sweep, see? Cut and dry. Ryder and Danse would go in, take a look around, maybe clear out some hostiles, then report back any interesting findings. Quinlan had assured them it was going to be a walk in the park, and it had been, up until Ryder got impatient and opened the wrong door.

Their usual process goes like this: Danse checks everything first. That’s it. He’s got the big fuck-off armor with a filtration system, so he’s the one who goes in guns blazing. All Ryder has to do is be patient, but this one time, he isn’t.

So Ryder opened the door.

At first, nothing major happened. There was some lab equipment that wasn’t of any interest, a busted terminal, and lots of drawers filled with junk. But Ryder found a drawer with some tape on it saying “DO NOT OPEN,” and of course he opened it. Inside the drawer there was a little box, which Ryder also opened, and inside that box, there were some little vials. Ryder touched one and it shattered, as thin 200 year old glass does sometimes.

That’s where shit went pear-shaped.

Something in that vial - some kind of spore, maybe? Ryder doesn’t have the wherewithal to puzzle it out right now, thanks - drifted up and promptly got breathed right on in. And pretty much instantly, as far as he recalls, Ryder was ready to bone down hard. This is about when Danse walked in, and now all of Ryder’s addled horniness is directed right at his good friend, superior officer, and sorta-kinda old school crush.

Which is. Great.

“Are you well?” Danse asks. “You look a little disoriented.”

Ryder’s never really considered having a thing for people who look after him, but Danse’s concern makes his dick twitch, definitely.

“Uh,” Ryder says. He blinks hard. “Drawers. Drawer? It’s. I opened it.”

“The one that says ‘Do Not Open?’”

Ryder nods. He keeps nodding. He can’t even see Danse’s face, but he’s thinking about grinding against the power armor anyway. Ew, he’s salivating a lot. And sweating. Gross.

Danse takes a step closer. “Was that inside?”

“Inside,” Ryder says stupidly, mind flashing to him hilt-deep in Danse’s ass.

“Something’s wrong,” Danse says. “Are you hurt?”

Ryder drops the vials, not really wanting to hold them anymore. What’s far more important is his boner. Wait, that’s not correct. They’re on a mission. He shouldn’t have dropped the vials. Shit.

“Ryder!” Danse snaps.

Jumping, Ryder looks up at him.

His helmet is off and under his arm so he can give Ryder the full strength glare. Ryder can’t stop staring at his lips, not processing the words that are coming out of them.

Ryder licks his own lips. His mouth is salty. Weird. He feels weird. It’s so hot. How is Danse not burning up in that power armor?

“What are you talking about? It’s freezing down here,” Danse says.

Shit. Ryder didn’t mean to say that out loud. Did he say that out loud? Ryder doesn’t fucking know anymore. This heat is really messing with him. Danse is frowning.

Is Ryder frowning, too? He can’t think. He’s sweating up a storm. He starts peeling off bits of armor. Less clothing. Good idea. Danse should take off his armor. Ryder and Danse should both be naked. Yeah. And then Ryder would-

His hazy thoughts are interrupted by cold metal fingers wrapping around his wrists.

“Get a hold of yourself, Knight!” Danse says, voice sharp and no longer very much concerned. “We have a mission to complete.”

The mission? Ryder struggles to connect the dots, the brunt of his mental power going toward figuring out a way to get Danse naked and under him. Ryder strains forward, bringing his bare chest into contact with the solid hull of Danse’s breastplate. The world goes topsy-turvy with the searing cold touch, and Ryder has a split second of clarity to feel embarrassed about his behavior before his brain is once more swamped with heat.

“I’m burning,” he breathes. “I’m dying.” Ryder aches with everything in him.

“Damn. I knew we should have brought Scribe Haylen along,” Danse says. With efficient movements, he disengages one glove and reaches out to touch Ryder’s forehead.

As soon as Danse’s skin touches his, the scorching heat burns brighter.

Ryder lets out a humiliating whimper of a sound, punched from his lungs against his will, and comes in his uniform trousers at once.

Danse is blinking in astonishment at him when Ryder snaps back to the present.

When did he end up on his knees? He’s all sticky and gross. He hasn’t come in his pants since he was a teenager. And Danse isn’t touching him anymore, Ryder realizes with anguish. His brain hurts from processing all this information and dealing with the rapidly regrowing heat.

“Paladin,” Ryder says pitifully.

Danse splutters. “Knight. You’re, uh, did you just?”

Ryder sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, hoping the pain will ground him. He feels himself, impossibly, getting hard again. “Shit. Danse. Need you.”

“This is against protocol, we can’t-“

With a noise Ryder didn’t even know he could make, he clutches Danse’s leg and rocks his hips forward, bringing his aching cock into contact with the blessedly hard surface of Danse’s footgear. He moans long and low, hips stuttering forward of their own accord.

Danse stands above him, frozen wide-eyed and watching as Ryder desperately humps his leg like a dog.

Ryder’s fingers dig between the plates of armor as he seeks his release, but even as his thrusts grow more manic, he can’t get himself off. It frustrates him, starts to hurt as he pushes himself harder and faster to no avail.

Hesitant, Danse lays a hand on top of Ryder’s head, sinking his fingers into the thick curls.

In instant response, Ryder keens and grinds himself one last time against Danse’s leg, holding tight and shaking as he comes again.

He sags, once he’s done, panting hard. His dick is sore from all his frantic rubbing, and the heat glows on the back burner for a moment. It’s nice to have a respite, especially when Danse is petting him gently and trying his damnedest to make soothing noises. Despite the shittiness of the whole affair, Ryder finds himself smiling about that.

“Are you finished?” Danse says, after a long and awkward few minutes.

Regrettably, Ryder doesn’t know. He mumbles something to that effect, and Danse gives an understanding sigh in return. It’s nice, Ryder thinks, to have somebody understand you like that.

“Think maybe,” Ryder says, “I need some real fucking.”

Danse’s hand stops its repetitive petting motion, which Ryder finds he misses. There’s a thoughtful silence, where Ryder cranes his head as best he can to see Danse’s face.

“Do you mean,” Danse pauses. “Me? In you?”

Ryder smiles thinly. “I could fuck you. Good and hard. Long. Could ride you. Fuck each other. Lots of options, Paladin.”

Another beat, then-

Danse tightens his fingers in Ryder’s hair, tilts his head back so they meet eyes. “I’m not getting fucked on the ground,” he says.

“Your delicate knees can’t handle it, Princess?” Ryder teases.

The red tint Danse’s cheeks take on is fascinating, and Ryder imprints it permanently in his memory.

“Guess a table’ll do,” Ryder decides.

Danse is stepping out of his armor. Ryder’s sticky uniform pants hit the ground. Danse lays a bedroll delicately over the top of the table, which Ryder laughs at for a second before he wants Danse naked, like, yesterday. And Danse’s uniform joins Ryder’s on the floor.

Ryder pushes Danse down onto it and starts rimming him to within an inch of his life. Danse’s fingers pull at Ryder’s hair, his thighs clenching around Ryder’s head, and the breathy, self-conscious noises he makes are getting Ryder to drip all over the place. When Ryder slides a finger in next to his tongue, Danse gasps. Another, and he groans. A third has Danse begging for more, harder, faster, more.

Who is Ryder to deny a request like that?

He fucks Danse fast and hard, the table squealing in protest beneath them, shoving into the wall hard enough to make dust rain down around them. Ryder sucks and bites at Danse’s chest, reveling in the high-pitched moans he can produce with a well timed hickey. Danse clings to Ryder, trying to keep up with his relentless pace and hunger. Ryder tucks his hands up under Danse’s muscled thighs, bending him nearly in half and pounding into him harder.

He’s getting so close, his vision is turning red, his brain is frying in his skull, he’s going to go supernova and swallow the whole world up with him.

Ryder can’t think can’t breathe can’t feel anything beyond the point where he and Danse are connected can’t process anything but the pleasure and the feeling of touching the sun like a post-apocalyptic Icarus and-

The Earth goes up in flames again.

Then the dust settles.

Their harsh breathing mingles between the two of them. Danse is boneless against the table, head tipped back and eyes unfocused as Ryder comes to.

He feels like he just got beat to hell by a Deathclaw.

The sloppy noise of Ryder pulling out of Danse is almost enough to make him ill, but he remembers he’s heard a lot worse out in the wastes, so he swallows it down and flops into the nearest desk chair. He’s exhausted. Truly, bone-deep exhausted.

Whatever the hell it was that got into his system, it sure did tear through him.

“Fuck,” Ryder sighs.

“I’ll say,” Danse quips from where he still lays, unmoving on the desk.

Ryder hums. “Quick fiver, then back to it?”

Danse nods in Ryder’s peripheral vision. “Yeah. Better tell Quinlan it wasn’t as routine as he thought.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ryder says.

“I’m feeling pretty handled,” Danse says.

Ryder grins, tired but unrepentant. “Well, maybe next time I’ll go easier on you.”

“Next time?”

“Oh please,” Ryder scoffs. “Now that I know what I’ve been missing, I’d love to be in full possession of my faculties so I can fuck you good, Princess.”

The pencil that hits Ryder in the temple isn’t undeserved, but Danse blushes, so he considers it a victory.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ;)


End file.
